


It's A Violet Way We Have Even When We Smile

by sarahandthegraveyardshift



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Human Derek Hale, M/M, Vampire Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1350049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahandthegraveyardshift/pseuds/sarahandthegraveyardshift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello, Darling. Miss me?" </p><p>Human!Derek. Vampire!Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's A Violet Way We Have Even When We Smile

An eerie, familiar laugh echoes off of the chapel walls, and Derek draws in a breath, grinding his teeth. He knows he shouldn't have side-tracked from the task he was sent to complete, but he couldn't help himself. So many memories bubble at the sight of the hospital's former sanctum. 

It used to be beautiful—polished wood, dusty bibles, and when the light hit that window just right, those colors would sing out over the empty pews. But the wood is dry and broken now, the bibles lie in scattered pages, and the stained glass was long ago shattered, the windows boarded up. The sun hasn't reared its ugly head in this place for a very long time. 

“Derek,” a voice sings in a long, drawn-out tone, and Derek bites his tongue. There was a time when he would have welcomed that voice, that name from those sweet lips. But now...now those lips have cracked and become stained with blood; those words have changed to something foreign and awkward—a stranger's voice from a familiar throat. “Why the long face, Derek? Something wrong?”

The man cradles the crossbow in his hands closer to his chest, taking a step back. His heel rolls back on a splintered piece of wood, and the echoing _crack_ causes him to jump and spin around, searching the empty space wildly. The laugh sounds again. 

“Skittish, aren't we?” The voice is low and dark. “Is it because of me?”

“Don't flatter yourself, you fucker,” Derek mutters, his eyes scanning the shadows and the ceiling. A small gust of air whispers at the back of his neck, and he shivers, turning slowly to find the shadow of someone he used to know. A wide grin graces the figure's lips, exposing sharp canines—still caked with dry, blackened blood. 

“Hello, Darling. Miss me?” Stiles's voice grates against Derek's nerves. 

_No, it's not Stiles anymore_ , the older man has to remind himself. 

“Hardly,” Derek manages to choke out, shoving the crossbow closer to the other's chest. 

“Stocking up?” the other asks conversationally, and Derek doesn't respond. “Allison must be pretty big by now.” A thoughtful look crosses his face. “She wouldn't be in labor already, would she? That would suggest...complications.” Still, Derek says nothing. “But you were just here last week...so the only other explanation is that you're looking for—”

“Where's my sister?” Derek demands harshly, his eyes narrowing and his stance strengthening. Stiles's eyebrows rise, and he chuckles, running his tongue over his teeth. 

"A missing girl," he muses. "How dreadful. In this day and age, you can never be too careful, can you?"

"Just tell me where she is!" Derek shouts angrily. It only seems to amuse the other more. Derek pushes the tip of his crossbow into Stiles's chest, and the younger man laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender as the man shoves him towards the altar. The back of Stiles's thighs hit the edge of a long table, and he has to bend back slightly over the dusty surface as Derek presses the arrow into his chest further. 

"Now, now," the younger man says calmly, his eyes emanating a slight sense of nervousness. "Innocent till proven guilty, right?"

"Tell me where she is, or you're dead." Derek is becoming desperate, and he knows that if he shows it, the other will use it to his full advantage. 

"And what if I don't have an answer?" Stiles smirks, his eyes shining mischievously. 

"Then this is a very unfortunate day for you," Derek growls. "Two days ago, she was headed here with Peter. It should have only taken half a day to get here."

"And yet she's not." The other cocks his head, faux concern emanating from his features. 

"I'll ask this one more time, and if I don't get a straight answer, you'll wish you were human again," the man threatens, his teeth groaning in protest as he grinds them together. 

"Oh, but Derek," Stiles whispers, his face softening and his eyes glazing with just a hint of longing. The older man almost swears he is seeing the old Stiles—the real Stiles. “That's something I wish for everyday." Derek swallows hard and takes a step back. 

"I'm sorry, Stiles," he sighs. "I'm...I'm so sorry." Stiles sits up, staring at the man carefully. 

"For what?" he questions slowly. Derek raises his crossbow up over Stiles's head, and too late does the vampire realize what Derek has done. 

The arrow pierces the rotting wood nailed over the window, splintering and cracking. The broken pieces fall to the ground in a symphony of _thuds_ , and rays of sunshine slowly begin to trickle through. 

"Shit," Stiles curses under his breath, scrambling to the nearest dark corner. He presses himself within it, staring warily at the light that creeps towards him little by little. 

"Derek, you can't do this," he calls desperately, his gaze shifting wildly between the stoic man and his impending death. Derek says nothing, watching quietly and with a sense of dread. Every impulse tells him to run and protect the younger man...but his heart says that this is the way it has to be.

"Derek? Derek you there?" Scott's voice crackles over the radio strapped to his belt, and he yanks it off, placing it to his lips. 

"This is Derek. Go ahead."

"Cora and Peter just got here. They got held back the other day somewhere near Morrow Bay." 

"How are they?" 

"Tired. But they're fine...Did you find him?"

Derek hesitates, taking a moment to look behind him at the pleading eyes of his former lover. 

"Yeah," he says finally. "Yeah, he's been taken care of." He turns, walking briskly out of the crumbling room. 

"This isn't over, Derek!" Stiles screams, his voice echoing through the deserted halls before the older man closes the chapel doors.


End file.
